


bad weather

by serendipitiness



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: (Ish) - Freeform, (specifically slight burns from magic), Angst, Cathartic Magic, Gen, Heartbreak, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Week 3: Abstract Reverie, supportive best friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 15:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20099674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipitiness/pseuds/serendipitiness
Summary: Magnus just wants to be alone, to break and destroy and sink into that miserable ache in his chest.Ragnor won't let him.





	bad weather

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:**
> 
> Painting: "Abstract Reverie" by Magdalena Morey.

The bay is calm.

It's dark, dawn not yet arrived. Moonlight reflects on the waters, the lapping of waves the only sound that Magnus can hear other than his own ragged breath. The act of taking air into his lungs hurts, a bloody, pulsing wound, and on his next exhale, he just -- screams.

Power, simmering inside him since the moment he impulsively portaled from home seeking solitude, bursts explosively, starting in his gut and spearing outward, jets of violent scarlet heat making the ocean boil. Trees along the land burn, bark crisping to black, leaves charring into dust. The entire dome of the sky flames alight; magic splinters into the atmosphere.

Magnus lets himself grow careless, lets magic scald the skin of his hands, his cheeks, relishing the sting. But it’s not enough.

The release doesn’t soothe the way his heart had broken at seeing Camille in their bed with someone else. It doesn’t change the way she had  _ laughed _ , amused at his tears. It doesn’t help Magnus forget that in the end, Camille turned out to be just like the rest of them, the same as almost every other lover who's said:  _ I like you, but not enough _ .

A sob wrenches from Magnus’ chest, and his knees hit the sand. The fabric smokes, and he crumples, feeling small. What a weakling he is. What a fool, what a --

“Oh, my friend.”

Startled, Magnus turns and sees Ragnor at his side, encased in magic, bracing himself against the maelstrom coming from Magnus’ body.

“Leave,” Magnus cries between gritted teeth. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“No more than you’ve already been hurt.” Ragnor’s grip traverses daringly to Magnus’ hands, where magic is still spilling out. “I’m here,” Ragnor says gently, voice warm and scratchy like a blanket. "Just breathe with me, alright? I’m here."

He doesn't know how long it takes. The change is incremental, minute, involuntary, yet slowly, Magnus steadies, feels the anger temper and the magic slow. Ragnor’s presence has always done this for him, an eternal calm in the eye of the storm. Magnus tumbles forward into Ragnor’s arms.

“She doesn’t love me,” he murmurs into Ragnor’s shoulder.

“So she doesn’t deserve you,” Ragnor answers.

“I don’t know what to do. She’s the love of my life.”

Ragnor tips Magnus’ chin up. “She isn’t. Because the love of your life would never hurt you this way. The love of your life is still waiting for you, and it will be kinder and truer and better than anything you’ve experienced before.”

Magnus shakes his head. He doubts it.

Ragnor leans forward and kisses Magnus' forehead. “Trust me.”

Across the water, the sun finally starts to rise; gold peeks above the horizon through the peaceful, residual blue-purple mist of Magnus' magic. It’s beautiful, poetic, and Ragnor would call it a fitting metaphor for the future, but Ragnor is wrong.

There’s a crack in Magnus' heart, a fissure that’s deep and wide and raw.

He doesn’t think it will ever heal.


End file.
